The Real Reason
by Elma MacBetsy
Summary: The real reason Phoenix became a lawyer. Or at least my little idea of it.


**This is sort of written as a letter from Phoenix to Edgeworth, or something like that. It was just an idea that came to me. **

**I've never wanted to be the sort of author who did this, but it would really mean a lot to me if anyone who likes my Phoenix Wright stories could review them, as so far no one has. Please?**

**Disclaimer: Phoenix Wright is owned by Capcom**

**The Real Reason**

I never told you why I really became a defence attorney. Sure, you standing up for me in the class trial may have sparked the interest, and, yeah, perhaps having Mia defend me that time gave me something tangible to work for, but surely you must have wondered how someone who had always lacked the passion you'd had could possibly have kept the same idea for over ten years. Or at least not without something in the middle, bridging it. And you'd be right.

All the times you talked about your father, and by that I mean those few times it came up when I finally found you again, I wondered whether I should tell you. Would you be pleased that someone understood how you felt, at least in some ways? Or would it upset you to know that someone else had suffered like you had? Would you be annoyed that I presumed to know all about your feelings when our experiences were so different? Or would you simply be disappointed that I hadn't told you sooner? I couldn't be sure. And I wasn't sure if our weak friendship was up for that kind of burden.

The truth was that not long after you left, after _that_ incident, all thoughts of becoming a lawyer left my mind. I'd gone back to my original plan, to be a doctor, just like _my_ dad. Like you, I admired my father in so many ways. I couldn't imagine anyone more caring, anyone more brilliant. It never crossed my mind that he might do…what he did. Or what he allegedly did.

I was fourteen when it happened. I remember it clearly. A policeman came to our house. He spoke to my mom alone. It seemed so important that I didn't try to listen at the door. It felt wrong somehow. When my mother emerged, she was white as a sheet. The policeman looked slightly awkward, like he wanted to leave but wasn't sure that it was appropriate. My mother looked over her shoulder.

"I'm sure you have some very important work to do, detective. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to talk to my son."

She sounded frosty. I was almost shocked that she would be so rude to the man, but, as I said, I'd already realised how serious the issue was. The detective said nothing, just bowed his head once and left.

My mother led me over to the couch, and we both sat down. She didn't try to ease me into it, or offer any kind of reassurance before she gave me the cold, hard truth.

"Your father has been arrested. For murder. He's in police custody right now, in questioning. His trial will be in a few days." I didn't let the bluntness shock me. I was too stunned by what she'd said. Murder? My dad? Surely not… Why wasn't she more upset by the fact that he could be found guilty, and… I couldn't bear think it. I must have voiced at least part of my thoughts about her reaction because she gave me an answer. First, she pursed her lips and looked at me carefully, as if considering what to tell me. I knew it would be the truth though. All my life my parents had aimed to treat me like an adult, in everyday. While I enjoyed that they respected me enough not to keep things from me, I was aware that it was for the same reason that all my life they'd been slightly cold around me. Even when I was little, they'd never gone in for physical affection.

"It does upset me." She finally said. "I am concerned about what might happen to him." She paused here, seemingly to consider again what she wanted to tell me. "But… the detective told me the circumstances of the… of the occurrence, and having spoken to your father about similar things… I think that he might be gu-" I cut her off. I couldn't stand to hear it.

"NO! He's not… My dad wouldn't… How can you say that?" I was so angry. My own mother, turned against my own father. At fourteen, I knew that in many ways I wasn't a child anymore, yet this wasn't a concept I could get my head around. I knew that other children faced their parents separating, but not like this. I ran from the room. To this day, she stands by what she said that night. And to this day, I can't forgive her.

The trial was my first time in a courtroom. At the time, I was convinced that I'd never want to step into one again. Obviously my opinion changed fairly rapidly. The case against my father was pretty solid, even I could see that. The details were irrelevant to me, then and now. My father was accused of killing the adult son of a patient who'd died in his care. The son was threatening to sue, and as money had apparently been tight (it was the first I'd heard of it) my father had done what he could to stop the other man. There was one witness. My father refused to admit guilt nor would he plead innocence. This is all I remember of the trial itself. What I concerned myself with was the two attorneys.

I'd like to be able to say that the prosecutor was some kind of demon, that he falsified evidence against my father or some suchlike and from then on I was driven to stop evil of that sort. I'd like to be able to say that the defence's faith in my father's innocence was such that he put up a valiant fight right to the very end and that I just knew he was the kind of person I wanted to be. But neither statement would be true. The prosecutor lacked presence and came across as just being bored. He just let the jury see the evidence and listened to the witness without putting forward any of his own words to add to the argument. As such there was clearly no lying or manipulation on his end. The defence attorney clearly believed my father to be guilty, but also clearly didn't care either way. He put in a half-hearted attempt to get a lighter sentence, but near the end when it became obvious which way the jury was going, he just rolled over and gave up. So no, neither lawyer had any impact on me.

What I remember mostly about the trial are my own feelings. I had two very clear ones. The first was a devoted and undying belief that despite any and all evidence to the contrary, my father was innocent. The second was a huge amount of pain; not at the possibility that my father might be guilty, nor at the idea that he would be punished but innocent. What pained me was the idea of losing him. The confidence I had in my father didn't extend to the ability of the judge and jury to realise what I'd always known. I knew that this was the end. That the man that I'd aspired to be like was to be remembered as a criminal.

That was when the idea of being a defence attorney came to me. If I could save a family from being torn apart like mine was, then I'd feel content that I'd done my job. After all, the defendant may or may not be guilty, but the family would always be innocent.

It wasn't until the next time I was in a courtroom, this time for my own trial, that my views changed. Up to then, it really hadn't occurred to me that in almost every trial, _someone_ had to be found guilty. I also realised that the people you loved weren't always innocent. I'd had the same conviction in Dahlia's innocence as I'd had in my father's, after all. This was the first time that I entertained the notion that maybe, just maybe, my father could've been guilty. But I couldn't let myself think like that, so I shut that thought away right at the back of my mind.

After that, I forgot about family. If you loved someone who was guilty, then it was you who would suffer the consequences just as much as they did, and there was nothing that could be done about that. Since then I've done everything that I can to avoid dealing with guilty people, as I know it will only work in undermining the basis of my life for the last ten years.

An there you have it: My deepest, darkest secret.

**So please review? I'd really like to know what people think.**


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